I'll never really know her
by StrawberryPajamas
Summary: I don't know if it's the fresh air or the absence of Michael, but I really notice how nice she smells. Like citrus and some kind of flower. oneshot during michael scott paper co.


**I'll never really know her**

* * *

Our office space has always been a little darker than the place upstairs. Like, it's a 60-watt bulb among a 100-watt world. And obviously it's dark because there are no windows, but I can always feel the air tightening in my chest as I walk in my usual hour late to work. Even when there's bright sunshine and green grass and smiling faces all around, I know as soon as I walk through those small closet doors that minutes later I'm going to be saying something along the lines of "Yes, Michael, red is your color." or "Yes, I'm sure Holly does still think about you."

~/~

Pam always sits right beside me, her normal quiet self. She's been quieter since she and Jim had broken off the engagement, I notice. I don't know many of the details, only that they had had a screaming fight in the parking lot a few weeks ago and she threw her ring back at him and that's only because we could all hear it going on.

She never really talks to me and Michael about anything, and that's cool. We're just here to work, and Michael's hijinks are just here as a distraction in our monotonous lives. That's all.

I come in to work close to eleven on a Wednesday and find Pam sitting alone in the office at the poker table. I set my lunch bag down on the table, and Pam looks up at me. I could be wrong, but it looks like she's been crying.

"Where's Michael?" I ask. The air still feels tight around my windpipe.

"He's sick," She says thickly, and I know she's been crying. "He says his rosacea is acting up."

Rosacea is just a fancy word for acne, isn't it? I sigh and sit down next to her, ready to start the workday without a word of protest.

I take the laptop out of its case and I hesitate for a second before speaking to her, "You can have the laptop today," I slide the thin portable computer over to her, and she takes it with mild surprise. "I can just use Michael's for today."

"Thanks." This is the most she's said in weeks

She doesn't say anything else as I stand up and walk around the table to sit at Michael's desk, and I wonder if she can still smile.

~/~

We take our lunch break together. This is unusual, because normally we go our separate ways for lunch. She would eat out or pack her lunch, and I would just hang outside for a smoke. Either that or Michael would bring a pizza for us all to share. But other than those brief incidents, that was it. Pam is typing something up on the borrowed laptop and she looks up at me and asks if we could eat lunch outside together. I'm a little surprised, but accept anyway.

We stand outside in the hallway, in front of the elevators; her, holding an old Chinese takeout box and me, my brown paper lunch bag. We are silent as we wait for the elevator to come, and it's awkward as I'm shifting my bag from one hand to the other.

The doors open, and out steps Jim. He's wearing his suit jacket, something he never does. He freezes and looks at us both with raised eyebrows. I just stare steadily back at him, having a sudden urge to protect Pam if he were to yell and charge at her again. But he doesn't and walks down the hall, without a word, throwing a cold nod in my direction as he passes. He ignored Pam, I notice.

I look over at Pam but she's looking down and I can't read her expression. We both step wordlessly onto the elevator and I press a button for the lobby.

"I'm sorry," Pam whispers suddenly, and I can hear tears in her words. I gulp, feeling uneasy.

"It's not your fault," I say to my feet. I can't look at her, knowing it would be too much if I did.

"Yeah."

I look up at the shaft's ceiling and press my lips together and I know she wants reassurance. "He's an asshole, Pam." I mumble. I really believe it.

"I know."

I hope she believes it too.

~/~

The doors open and we walk out through the lobby and towards the sunshine outside. We find a bench to the side of the building and we sit down, side-by-side like we do in the office. I don't know if it's the fresh air or the absence of Michael, but I really notice how nice she smells. Like citrus and some kind of flower.

We make some small-talk as we pick at our food. We manage to not say the word 'Jim' the entire time and we stand up twenty minutes later when we're finished. I manage to get a smile out of her when I throw my garbage through a parked car's open window, and my heart feels a little lighter when she does. I notice that she's pretty when she smiles.

I can breathe a little easier too when we walk back into our office space to get back to work.

~/~

So I guess we're kind of friends now, Pam and me. I've never really had a friend in the office, Dunder-Mifflin or this one, so it's sort of nice. Kelly was never really a friend, and Jim was just cool to talk to for a time. Pam talks to me about work and sometimes about what she wants to do outside of the paper business and I tell her how I'm probably going to end up working here for the rest of my life.

We don't really talk about Jim either, and I don't really force her to. Sometimes I'll catch her reading an old email from him or look at a picture of him from inside her purse. One time I walked in on a Thursday at around noon with Michael napping in his chair and Pam hunched over something on her lap, her back to me. I set my lunch on the table, and she jumps. I see the flash of light off a metallic yogurt lid and paper clips as she quickly shoves something back into her purse. I don't say anything as I sit down and wait for my turn for the computer and she doesn't clarify. We just left it at that, and that was okay.

Yeah.

~/~

Days go by, and on Friday Michael insists we all have a company-wide Saturday trip to the beach. He bounces happily on the balls of his feet and says excitedly that we'll have a blast and that he knows the perfect spot. I just look at Pam and she looks back, a kind of amusement dancing in her eyes. A three person beach trip with Michael Scott should be interesting. I should probably bring my camera.

So the next day I pack up my stuff for the trip and I come about two hours earlier than I would do on a usual work day. I already find Pam sitting on the curb wearing a sunny yellow tank top and blue bermuda shorts as I pull in, an overlarge purse sitting beside her and her hair up in a ponytail. It's never like that.

I greet her as I walk from my car toward where she was sitting. I can smell the sweet shampoo from her hair as I sit down beside her, my hip brushing against her leg. We always sit close together. It's just a thing we do and I like it.

Pam doesn't greet me back as she brings her knees to her chest and bows her head down. A few stray pieces of hair fall in front of her face and I can't read her expression.

"Pam?" I ask, lowering my head and trying to see what's written on her face. "I –"

But I never finish the sentence because her lips suddenly crash into mine. I don't expect it but I kiss her back anyway. I can feel cold tears from her cheeks press against my face as her hands suddenly move to my collarbone and slide up to my neck. She tastes like fruit and toothpaste and something a little sour, like alcohol. I open my mouth against hers, wondering why it is so easy to kiss her in front of the building we work in the morning of our office beach trip. It is easy, and I like that it's easy.

She pulls away, and her hands drop away from me and I feel a little cold. I look at her and she looks away, up at the sunrise. I notice the tears sliding down her cheeks which probably still stuck to my own face. I don't know what to say and she looks down at her feet.

"I don't think I'm ever going to get over Jim." She admits, brushing her fingertips gently along the gravel ground around us. She hasn't mentioned him in over a week.

That hurt. I wasn't expecting it to hurt. "Yeah."

She looks at me again and I look at her. Her face is covered in tears and some smudged make-up in the corners of her eyes and it breaks my heart.

She leans over or I lean over, it's hard to tell exactly, but we kiss again. This one is a little sloppy, but just as easy as the first one. But this one ends before I had the chance to savor it.

She pulls away the second we hear Michael pull into the parking lot, ready to pick us up for the trip. Pam sniffles slightly, picks up her bag and stands up, ready to go.

I stand up too, knowing that I would never entirely know her. I lead her over to Michael's car and hold the door open for her and wonder if I'll ever get the smell of citrus and some kind of flower off of my skin.

The End


End file.
